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If I deduce, from what you say,
Of you grand state of loving claim
Then only this, perhaps I may:
You're young, or timid, or are lame.
A lack of prescence has you sore,
To now hold on by any strings
To what you fancy be allure,
But empty plates at dinner brings.
Easy took are half-wits and fools
By illusions from a beauty,
When they suspend all common rules
And claim love by rightful duty.
Sorry for the long delay for my part of the poetry challange, my computer/internet didn't feel like cooperating with one another blah blah blah. Hopefully if all runs smoothly, I'll post the rest of my poems within the next couple of days.